


Uncommon Cold

by TheBeeThatHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Holmes!reader, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock is a Brat, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeeThatHums/pseuds/TheBeeThatHums
Summary: You turn up with a cold and Sherlock is not happy. John, on the other hand, sees an opportunity.Moving all my old work here from DeviantArt. Don't mind me.~Bee





	1. Chapter 1

“She’s late.”

John looked up from his computer at the pacing consulting detective, “She’s always late Sherlock.”

“She’s late even with my counting on the fact that she’s always late. Something is wrong.”

John sighed, worrying slightly himself because as usual Sherlock was right- you were late.

Just as Sherlock was about to grab his coat and go to look for you, the door swung open and you bundled through, cheerfully greeting them, “I come bearing gifts and food.”

“You’re late.”

You rolled your eyes at your brother as you moved to the kitchen to set what you had in your arms down, “I’m always late Sherlock.”

“You’re later than usual. What happened?”

You sighed, shaking your aching head as you tried to deal with him patiently, “My flat is across town, I was carrying all this, and I didn’t leave on time. You do the math.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to decipher if you were lying, when you gave a whopping sneeze, just barely managing to catch it in the crook of your arm. Sherlock shied away from you immediately, scrunching up his nose, “Are you _ill_?”

“I’m fine Sherlock. It was just a sneeze,” you said shooting him a glare over his reaction before sarcastically flinging, “Thank you so much for your concern. Really, if I were sick, that would have been _so_ comforting.”

“You know you always give me your sick. I have a busy life- I can’t afford that.”

“And I can?”

“You can hardly prevent something that’s already happened (F/n). Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m going to lick you.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the childish threat, “Why must you act so juvenile? I know you aren’t going to lick me.”

You gave him a look that told him he was horribly mistaken and moved to chase him when he bolted out of the kitchen. He hid behind John, who was more than used to your sibling antics, but you only got as far as John’s chair before you let out a painful sounding series of coughs. You sank down in it as you wheezed and Sherlock almost shrieked, “You _are_ sick. Don’t touch anything!”  

John shot a glare at him and got up to press a hand to your forehead, finding it far too warm, “How long have you been feeling off (F/n)?”

You leaned into the coolness of his hand as you tried to think back, “Ahhh… When was the last time it rained?”

“Wednesday.”

“However long ago that was.”

“Two days.” Sherlock supplied, keeping a good distance from you as he inched back into the kitchen, and John frowned, “How do you not know what day it is?”

“I was working up until this morning… What day it was hardly mattered.”

“Did you touch the brain or just the bag?” came a call from the kitchen and you rolled your eyes, “Just the bag. Your brain is safe for you to wreak whatever havoc you’d like on it. You’re welcome by the way.”

You looked back at John to give him a tired smile, “There’s a jumper for you in there as well. Though that I’ve touched so best to wash it first.”

There was concern in your friend’s eyes but you ignored it, pushing yourself up out of the chair to pull your coat back on, “I should go home. Sherlock will just be an insufferable mysophobe the entire time I’m here so there’s no point in staying. I brought Chinese and I only touched the bag so please enjoy it.”

John stopped you, “You’re sick… You shouldn’t be on your own.”

“She’s not staying here.”

You and John both rolled your eyes and you called, “I didn’t want to stay here anyway, you twat.”

Looking back at John, you tried to reassure him, “I’ll be fine John. It’s not the first time I’ve been sick and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

He made you promise to call if things got worse and watched you leave with worried eyes before turning to go into the kitchen, “You could have been nicer to your sister, Sherlock.”

“She’s a walking cesspool of germs. Her being here only upped the chances of one of us getting sick exponentially. Besides, statistically, it’s probably just a variant of the common cold and no cause for concern.”

John rolled his eyes, grabbing the food you’d brought and removing it from where Sherlock was contently cutting apart the brain you’d brought him before taking out the jumper you’d mentioned. It was soft and thick in a complex cable pattern and the grey-blue color matched his eyes. He sighed, you always brought him the best gifts and he’d just let Sherlock kick you out of the flat in under ten minutes when you were sick- he felt extremely guilty.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

After two days Sherlock deemed it had been long enough for you to have recovered and called you to come help him stave off the boredom since John had long since gotten fed up with him. You didn’t answer any of the ten times he called on both your phones and he got this sinking feeling in his gut that something was wrong. John came home from the store to find Sherlock pacing the living room, “What is it now?”  
  
“She’s not answering her phone.”  
  
“She’s probably working Sherlock.”  
  
“She didn’t answer her work phone either.”  
  
John considered this for a moment, you always answered your work phone unless the situation was dire, and before he could finish the thought, Sherlock stopped and demanded, “Go check on her.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The most likely scenario would be that she’s still ill and is ignoring her phones.”  
  
John opened his mouth to protest but thought about it and then nodded, “Ok. I’ll go.”  
  
He made the short trip to your flat and knocked on your the door with no success, his heart dropping in his chest as he tried again, this time calling out, “(F/n) it’s John. Please open up.”  
  
He was beyond relieved to hear some movement on the other side of the door even if it was a thud and a crash followed by a series of muffled cursing and rustling. You finally pulled the door open, nearly falling through it before he reached forward to steady you as you grumbled, “Sorry John… I was sleeping.”   
  
You were burning up and from your disheveled state probably had been for a while now, just sort of going limp in his arms as a fit of coughs racked your frame. He scooped you up, feeling you press your hot forehead into the cool skin of his neck with a relieved sigh as he huffed, “Why didn’t you call (F/n)?”  
  
“I tried… but I can’t remember where I left my phone… everything is so hazy.”  
  
He set you down on the couch amongst the blankets you’d obviously been sleeping under before he’d knocked and watched you shiver before rolling yourself up in them with a small whimper. He tucked them around you tightly as he asked, “Where’s your medicine cabinet? And a thermometer?”    
  
You rolled to look up at him, furrowing your brows in thought, “Ummm… down the hall and to the left, I think there should be something under the sink.” 

“Alright,” he nodded, letting you curl up again before looking over your apartment. It was actually fairly clean aside from the mountain of tissues on the floor next to you and the stacks of papers littering most of the surfaces. He ventured into your kitchen to set the kettle to boil before going to look where you’d told him, finding a very poorly stocked first aid kit that at least included a thermometer. Returning to you, he placed it in your mouth before scooting off to the kitchen to finish making you tea, bringing it back to you and gently brushing the hair away from your face, “(F/n) I brought you some tea, could you sit up please.” 

You shifted slowly to sit cross-legged just as the thermometer announced a reading and John stole it from your lips as he handed you the tea and you mumbled, “Thank you, John.” 

He read the stick with furrowed brows, looking up at you with a new sense of concern, “39.5… That’s not good. We need to get it down as soon as possible.” 

He thought for a moment before coming to a decision, “(F/n) do you think you can take a cool shower while I go grab some things?” 

You shoved yourself up, grabbing his shoulder for support, “I’m good John. You don’t need to take care of me… I’ll call Mycroft or something. Just help me find my phone.” 

He pursed his lips, helping you to the bathroom and switching on the water, “And Mycroft will take care of you? I find that hard to believe. I’m staying.” 

You gave him a weak smirk, shoving him out, “Not in here you’re not. That requires dinner and a movie.”

Beginning to cough again, you shut the door behind him and peeled off your clothes to all but crawl under the cool stream of water. John gave a chuckled sigh and grabbed his coat to go to the store and back before you were finished, calling Sherlock on the way. Your brother must have been waiting for him to call because the first ring had barely finished before he picked up, “What took you so long to call?”

“She’s really sick Sherlock. A very bad case of the flu by the look of it. I’m on my way to the store to pick up a few things to try and bring her fever down.”

“You’re concerned.”

“Very. If I can’t get it down in the next couple of hours, she’ll have to go to the hospital.”

Sherlock sighed, “I’ll notify Mycroft.”

Before John could protest Sherlock had hung up on him and he sighed heavily, grabbing the things he needed from the store and hurrying back to you. When he got there Mycroft was in the kitchen and you were on the couch with a wet head and clean pajamas, giving him a small smile as he walked through the door. He came over and pressed a hand to your forehead, “You feel cooler. That’s good.” 

Mycroft emerged to offer John a quick hello and you a bowl of soup, “Here. I stopped at that place you like… You need to eat something.” 

John was surprised, raising an eyebrow at Mycroft who turned to flatly state, “Don’t give me that look Dr. Watson. As the eldest, I’ve had to care for her more times than I care to count… That being said I have some important business to get back to. I trust you can handle things here?” 

“Of course,” John nodded and Mycroft scooped up his umbrella, “Be sure she finishes that soup. It’s been far too long since she ate something proper as her kitchen is empty and she has hardly left that couch in the past three days.”

He left and John looked back to you just as you sneezed directly into your soup, sticking out your lip in a pout as you started to feel sorry for yourself. He sighed and took it from you, “I’ll get you some more.” 

When he moved to leave you, you caught his arm and looked up at him with begging eyes, “Sit with me. Please?”

“You need to eat (F/n).”

He sighed when you gave him the biggest puppy eyes, giving in and sinking down next to you before jumping slightly when you snuggled into his side, “Thank you, John.”

This was his opportunity to get closer to you and he wasn’t going to waste it, wrapping his arm snuggly around you and tucking a disobedient strand of hair behind your ear as he thrummed softly, “I could never say no to you (F/n).”

You coughed weakly and he was reminded of why he went out, carefully disconnecting you from him with the promise he would be right back as he went to get a glass of water. He came back after a short moment, plopping down next to you to give you the water and a pair of pills, “These will help.”

He took the glass back from you when you nearly spilled it as you started coughing again, rubbing your back until you stopped and quickly grabbed it from him to swallow the pills before it started up again. He was a little surprised when you flopped into his lap, curling into yourself tightly as you softly whined, “Johnny, tell me about your last case.”

He couldn’t help but give a fond chuckle and a soft grin at your new nickname for him, gently running his fingers through your hair, “Of course.”

John began to recount the latest of he and Sherlock's adventures to you until he looked down and found that you’d fallen asleep, your fingers grasping at the knee of his pants as you wheezed. Tracing a finger down your cheek, he realized he didn’t have the heart to move you and grabbed a nearby book, leaning back into the couch to pass the time while you rested.


	3. Chapter 3

You'd only been sleeping for around an hour when John got a text from Sherlock, "We have a case. Be outside in 5- SH"

John looked down at you before shooting back, "I'm staying with her. Go on your own.- JW"

He expected Sherlock to text back demanding he come and prepared himself for an argument but what he didn't expect was for him to burst through your door less than ten minutes later. You bolted up at the noise, the sudden action causing a few painful coughs and a grimace as your sore muscles protested any and all movement. Sherlock refused to move further into your flat, standing just inside the doorway to command, "Let's go, John."

"No. She needs someone to stay with her."

"That is why I notified Mycroft. This is his responsibility."

John looked to you for an explanation, watching you slowly try to process the situation through the fog before running a hand down your face, "Mycroft and I came to an agreement when we were younger that we would each take care of the other should the need arise, as siblings living in the same general vicinity should."

"And Sherlock?"

You winced as you let out a combination between a cough and a laugh, “My and I flip a coin to see who has to deal with that… though since your arrival we have tentatively decided that he should become your burden.”

He gaped at you in shock and you, in turn, offered him a sheepish grin, “Sorry about that.”

Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently as John pointed out, “Well Mycroft is busy… you don’t really need me, Sherlock.”

You could see your brother clench his jaw and John braced himself for the worst but his wrath was directed towards you, “Stop acting pathetic to monopolize John’s time (F/n). Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had a worthy case? And now you and your faulty immune system are ruining it. My boredom and any subsequent murders resulting from this case are entirely your fault if you continue to impede our work.”

Your lip trembled slightly as his voice grew louder, “Sherlock… I’m sor-.”

“No, you aren’t. You enjoy John’s company far too much. I’ve told you how much I despise the fact that you fancy him and yet you continue to seek his attention. He is my associate not yours, I will not allow you to take him from me.”

“Sherlock!” John snapped, seeing the tears shining at the rims of your eyes as your face went red and you stared at your lap.

Your brother rolled his eyes, entirely unfazed, “Oh quit it (F/n). Fake tears will get you no sympathy from me and you know it.”

John just sort of gaped at your brother before his mouth set in a hard line as he prepared to tear into him but you gently tugged his sleeve, avoiding his gaze as you murmured, “I’m fine, John. Just go.”

Sherlock’s face fell drastically when he realized your tears weren’t a farce to get John to stay and you got up, wobbling as you stumbled towards your room to slam the door without saying another word. John glared at Sherlock as he stood, “What the hell Sherlock!? She’s your sister and she’s sick. Don’t you even care!? Oh no wait- I forgot. You only care about your cases and bloody… TOBACCO ASH! I am _not_ leaving her here alone. She wouldn’t even be this bad if you hadn’t sent her away in the first place. This is your own bloody fault.”

John’s words seemed to have the intended effect on Sherlock as he looked at the ground and said nothing before turning to walk out, grumbling, “I can go alone.”

The door slipped shut behind him and John let out a frustrated sigh, going to your door to lay a gentle knock on it, “(F/n)? Can I come in?”

“Just go with him, John.”

John rested his forehead on your door, “Is what he said true? Do you fancy me?”

There was silence from your side of the door, broken only by soft sniffles, and John wrapped his fingers around the handle, “I’m coming in.”

You didn’t stop him when he hesitantly came through the door, staying curled up on your bed facing the wall it was pushed up against. He sunk down on its edge, resting a hand lightly on your calf, “(F/n)?”

The pillow you had tugged to your chest slowly came away from your face as you sat up to face him, keeping your nose tucked into your knees, “I’m sorry you had to see that… and this. You don’t have to stay on my account. I’m feeling better and Mycroft will come to check on me if I tell him you’ve gone.”

He reached forward to toy with a piece of your hair as he softly reassured, “I’m not going anywhere until you’re better and you certainly don’t have anything to apologize for.”

You and Sherlock often butted heads, from small moments of disagreement to full-on shouting matches, but never like this and he’d certainly never caused real tears. Growing up with both him and Mycroft had given you a thick skin when it came to the scathing comments and ruthless deductions and you hardly ever let them affect you, usually hurling back some of your own for good measure. For some reason, this time had been different, the words he’d hurled at you cutting down to your very core, and you felt terrible.

Moving to rest your cheek on your knee, you let out a tired sigh, “It’s not his fault, John. He’s afraid of losing you… He’s never had a true friend before, so he doesn’t know how to act…. It’s not fair of me to pull you away from him when you’re the only one he has and he needs you far more than I do.”

“And what about you? How do you feel?”

“I don’t know… I like having you around but if it bothers him so much- he’s my brother-I just- I can’t think…” you stumbled, tucking your nose back into your knees.

He looked at his lap, contemplating what to do, before offering, “And if I like having you around too?  If I fancy you?”

You finally lifted your head to look at him hopefully, fresh tears still clinging to your cheeks, “You do?”

“Yes,” he assured with a small soft smile, reaching forward to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb.

The moment was broken when your head throbbed painfully and you crinkled your face up in pain before blinking at him a few times as he asked, “What is it?”

You shivered, “My head hurts… and I’m cold. Really cold.”

He moved his hand to your forehead and sighed, “Your fever’s back up. Let’s get you under the blankets and then I’ll go get the thermometer and a cool towel.”

Just moving to get the covers over you was an exhausting effort but, once you were there, John tucked you in snuggly and falteringly leaned to place a kiss on your forehead, earning him a weak giggle, “Thank you, Johnny.”

“You’re welcome (F/n). We’ll talk more when you’re feeling better,” he thrummed as he made his way out of the room to work on making you feel better.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Once your fever had broken and he was sure you would be ok to just sleep for a while, John returned to the couch to think over what had happened and what you'd said. You fancied each other and for that he was glad but he knew you would put Sherlock first if you were pressed to choose. One of the very first things you'd said to him when you'd met was that you were so glad Sherlock had found a friend, even if he refused to call it that.

As much as the two of you bickered, you would give anything for him to be happy even at the expense of your own happiness. You loved him that much and it was just the type of person you were. That being said, John didn't want that to happen.

He could see why Sherlock would be afraid of losing him, people normally didn’t stick around as long as he had, but at the same time, it wasn't like you were going to steal him away. When he really thought about it, it seemed that you spent more time in their flat then you did your own and he often came home to the two of you doing some sort of experiment or just thinking across from each other. You were as much of a part of Sherlock’s life as he was so if you were to date him it was likely not much would change. In theory, it would be better than him dating a random woman that wouldn't approve of him spending time with Sherlock.

Sherlock must have somehow known he was being thought of because John's phone awakened with a text, "How is she? -SH"

"She's sleeping now but the stress you caused coupled with crying pushed her fever back up -JW."

He got no response, not that he really expected one, and sunk down into the couch with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a short while later you quietly shuffled into the living room, hanging your head as you rubbed at your eyes. John just watched you for a moment, knowing that every step was probably exhausting and painful, and then caught your attention, "You shouldn't be up (F/n)."

You were already halfway to the kitchen and didn't pause as you grumbled, "Hungry."

John followed you into the kitchen and you found that Mycroft had left you a second container of soup with a note attached to its top that read, “Try not to sneeze into this one- MH” You huffed, flicking it to the side as you considered how creepy it was that your brother had known you would do that. John took the container from you and you whined a little pathetically before he turned you toward the door, “Go sit. I’ll heat it up.”

Flopping down on the couch, you pulled your knees up to rest your cheek on them as you thought about your brother, calling out to John, “John? What if something happens to Sherlock because you're not there to keep him out of trouble?”

He came in with your soup as he answered firmly, “He’s fine (F/n).”

You accepted it from him, looking down into it with a frown, “But what if he’s not? You know that he’s reckless sometimes… without you, he could get shot or something equally awful and it would be my fault.”

“Come here,” he huffed, pulling you gently to his side as he scooted closer to you, “I’m sure he’s fine, (F/n). Stop worrying so much and eat your soup.”

Leaning into him a little sleepily, you let out a heavy sigh as you shoved soup into your mouth, “I suppose you’re right.”

You had just finished your soup when Sherlock burst through the door again and you bounced up to hug him before he could stop you, “I was worried. I’m so sorry Sherly. Please forgive me.”

Both he and John just blinked a few times, surprised by this turn of events before you started coughing again, leaning heavily into Sherlock for support. He snapped out of it, sweeping you off your feet to sit on the couch with you in his lap, “I made you cry and you’re apologizing to me? I see being sick makes you act like an idiot.”

“You only yelled because I upset you. You needed John and that shouldn’t have changed just because I was sick or for any other reason for that matter. I promise I’ll leave him be. I don’t want to upset you,” you muttered, resting your cheek on his shoulder with a forlorn and slightly distraught expression.

Quickly getting fed up with both of you acting as if he wasn’t there, John growled, “I can be friends with both of you, you know. Don’t I get a say in how much time I spend with (F/n) and, as a doctor, when she needs my attention?”

Sherlock ignored John, bringing a hand up to check your forehead as he offered, “That isn’t necessary (F/n). I was just frustrated and I let it get the better of me… I never meant to make you cry.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, making your head spin slightly, and he grumbled a little reluctantly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sherlock. Really. I understand.” You mumbled, feeling sleep call to you again as your eyes slid closed. He stood up carefully and deposited you in your room before going into your kitchen to spray himself with disinfectant, bringing it with him to spray the couch as well before he flopped down onto it again. John raised a slightly amused eyebrow, “Are you quite finished?”

Sherlock just shot him a look that said shut it before stating, “You fancy her as well. Have for some time now.”

“So what if I have? She’s not willing to upset you.”

There was a period of silence before he quietly asked, “And if it didn’t upset me? Would you treat her well?”

John furrowed his brow at how uncharacteristically unsure Sherlock’s voice sounded but nodded, “Of course I would.”

“You should know that she procrastinates on everything but her work and that her focus will not stray when she has an assignment. Also, she folds the corners and pages in books in the most annoying way. Not to mention she likes to watch mindless cartoons when she’s bored or thinking and she hates quiet.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that I shouldn’t date her, you aren’t doing a very good job. I don’t really mind any of that and most if it I already knew.”

Sherlock shook his head, “I’m not trying to convince you of anything, John. I just think it’s important that you know her faults before beginning anything.”

John raised an eyebrow, a slight trace of hope crossing his face, “Does that mean I have your permission to date your sister?”

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, “It’s not my permission that you need but I suppose I will allow it… just keep all your emotional displays of affection away from me.”

“What do you mean? Whose permission do I need?” John tumbled, happy Sherlock wouldn’t stand in his way but concerned over whom else might.

“Mycroft’s obviously… It would be tedious to replace you if you ended up missing like many of her previous ‘dates’ have.”

John furrowed his brow as he considered this and Sherlock got up to move towards the door, “Make sure she doesn’t get any worse. I will be back when the case is over.”

“You came before-“ the door shut behind him as John finished, “the case was over?”

“He must have been really worried or felt really guilty…” he mumbled to himself before getting up to check on you again, thinking over the conversation he was going to have to have with Mycroft. You shifted closer to him when he sat on the edge of your bed, gripping the hem of his jumper tightly as your subconscious self searched for him. He reached over to brush the hair from your face before gently pressing the back of his hand to your forehead to be sure your fever hadn’t spiked again, sighing with relief when he found it hadn’t. He would talk to Mycroft when he got the chance, you were worth at least trying to convince him to approve, but right now he needed to make sure you got better.


	5. Chapter 5

John’s opportunity to talk to Mycroft came sooner than he thought when the man walked through the door to your flat with his suit coat over his arm and briefcase in hand. He offered John a slight smile as he set his things down on your desk, “Thank you for staying with her Watson. I hope she was not too much trouble.”

“Not at all.”

“Is there anything I should be aware of before you leave?” Mycroft asked as he went to the kitchen and John rubbed at the back of his neck nervously, shuffling slightly, “A-Actually Mycroft… I was hoping we could talk.”

Your eldest brother did not like the sound of that, appearing in the kitchen doorway to quirk an eyebrow at John menacingly, “Oh?”

John floundered, having expected this but still unsure of how to handle it, and was rescued when you shuffled out of your room, dragging your blanket behind you and rubbing your eye, “Mymy?”  

“Did we wake you, little one?” Mycroft hummed softly, sweeping over to press a hand against your forehead before tilting your chin up so he could look at you. You shook your head with a small pouted grimace, “I was already awake… I want John to stay.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, glancing over at John, “He’s not going anywhere (F/n). He and I need to have a little chat.”

A bit oblivious to the implications of that statement in your sick state you gave a small content smile followed by a yawn as John gulped and Mycroft gently urged you back towards your bedroom, “Come on, little one, back to bed. I think John and I agree that you shouldn’t be up.”

When he returned from making sure you were resting snuggly, he ran a hand through his hair and gestured to your stiff wooden desk chair, “Have a seat, Dr. Watson.”

John did as he asked and Mycroft simply scrutinized him for a moment and then paced across the room, “Do you know why I call (F/n) little one?”

John pursed his lips, “I have a theory but not exactly, no.”

“Allow me to explain then.” Mycroft articulated tightly as he straightened his tie stiffly and claimed your weathered wingback, exuding a meticulous and foreboding air of power as he neatly folded his hands beneath his chin. John shifted in his chair but held the other man’s sharp gaze without hesitation and Mycroft progressed with his thought, “(F/n) is three years younger than Sherlock and as such ten years younger than myself, meaning that she was only a child when I reached adolescence and in turn adulthood. She has been my responsibility for nearly the entirety of her life and, just as with Sherlock, it has been and is my duty to protect her.”

Mycroft rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, flexing his hand nonchalantly as he allowed the other to settle in his lap, and used the pause to gauge John’s reaction before continuing, “She is the most sensitive of the three of us and certainly the most willing to participate in what you would consider to be normal social situations and relationships yet ironically her intelligence surpasses even my own. It is a volatile combination. Seeking friendship from those who label her a freak or a sideshow has caused more tears than I wish to remember and she will likely never forget. Sherlock, as you well know, does not have a comforting cell in his body, so the task of wiping her tears fell to me. No matter how much she grows up to me she will always be the little one clinging to my neck for comfort from the harsh world of those who do not understand anything beyond the mundane.”

The tense air was split by the sound of John licking his lips in preparation for his response, Mycroft’s penetrating gaze never once leaving his person, “You can protect her all you want Mycroft but she is not a child anymore.”

“Quite right, she’s grown into a stunning young woman with equally stunning poor judgment. I can not stop her from seeking love, I’ve tried, but I can keep her from finding it in those who do not respect and adore her as they should.”

John’s heart fell, thinking that this was Mycroft’s way of trying to let him down easily because he did not believe John a worthy candidate, but his despair was premature as Mycroft wasn’t finished, “That being said out of those she has chosen I believe you are the closest to meeting the standards that I have set, which I am aware are impossibly high, and while you may not be able to in any way relate to her on an intellectual level it is obvious that emotionally you are a near perfect match.”

“I’m not entirely sure if I should be insulted or elated but either way I would appreciate it if you would get to the bloody point. Sooner rather than later would nice,” John huffed, his patience for your brother’s mind games wearing extremely thin.

Mycroft pulled an annoyed face but ultimately sighed, “I will allow you to court my sister as long as she is content with you doing so but if you are ever the cause of her tears on my shoulder I will not hesitate to erase you from the face of this insignificant planet. Is that clear?”

John was aware that that was a serious threat and in no way empty but couldn’t stop the wide grin from lighting up his face as he nodded vigorously, “Very. Thank you, Mycroft.”

“Do not thank me just yet Watson,” Mycroft hummed, standing to pull on his coat, “Getting further involved with my family may not be the blessing you think it is.”

Seeing your brother to the door, John fought the urge to roll his eyes at the man’s undying propensity to be ominous as he announced, “I leave her in your capable hands. Please call if she takes a turn for the worse.”

“Of course.”

John couldn’t wipe the grin off his face- both your brothers had given him permission. All he needed was for you to recover and everything would be perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

You startled awake, sitting up with a groan to hold your head in your hands as you tried to figure out why exactly. There was this niggling feeling in the back of your mind that you’d forgotten something important and with your brain the way it was you knew you very likely had. Feeling far better than you had in a while, you slid out of bed as you pulled up your to-do list in your mind, scanning it for something that you wouldn’t have been able to put on hold when you got sick as you tried to straighten your hair in the mirror.

None of the experiments you had running were time sensitive. You’d gotten all you work assignments done just before this started. You weren’t doing anything with Sherlock, so no case files to go over. You waved your hands sorting the mind files you’d pulled up in front of you as tried to find what it was that was keeping you from sleep. It was like having a multitude of tabs open in your web browser and then suddenly one of them starts playing music. Once you get past the obvious, there is no other option but to sort through everything piece by piece.

This was what John looked up to from his spot in your chair, your brow furrowed deeply as you blocked out all your sick aches in favor of frantically trying to sort through your brain. You got to your desk and flicked through some papers in an attempt to figure out what it was you were missing and John softly called, “What’s the matter (F/n)?”

You froze, a few papers still fanned out between your hands, and huffed, “I’m not sure. I know I’m forgetting something but I can’t seem to figure out what.”

The following silence was broken when you sneezed on your papers and then sighed in exasperation as John came to wrap an arm around your shoulder, “Don’t strain yourself (F/n). Whatever it is I’m sure it can wait until your better.”

You sank down into your work chair with a quiet groan and rested your cheek on the desk’s flat surface, “It won’t let me sleep.”

John petted your hair for a moment and then sighed, “At least come sit on the couch while you think. It’ll be far more comfortable than this desk.”

You let him pull you up and followed him over to the couch, tugging him down next to you so you could snuggle into his side as you closed your eyes to block out the room and its light while you thought. You could feel John quickly go from tense to relaxed as he grew comfortable with your close company and eventually wound an arm around you. You hummed your approval and felt the reverberations of a chuckle as you tucked your nose into his jumper, you were glad John was here. Neither of your brothers snuggled like John.

John.

You stiffened slightly and then sat up properly, letting John’s arm slide away from you as your brows knit together and something in your head clicked, “Why are you still here John?”

He frowned at you, “What d’you mean? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Rubbing at your eye with the palm your hand as your head started to ache, you huffed, “I remember telling Sherlock I didn’t want to upset him by taking you from him and vaguely recall that Mycroft was here… Shouldn’t you have gone with Sherlock? Or at least left after Mycroft arrived? Not that I don’t want you here I just… I don’t want to cause problems.”

“You told Mycroft you wanted me to stay and it didn’t make sense for both of us to be here so he left.”

“Oh,” you blinked at your lap confusedly, your mind trying to push through the fog to come up with your own answers as you mumbled, “That does not explain why you didn’t go with Sherlock… even if _you_ chose to stay it’s me he’s going to blame for you not being with him.”

John could see you were beginning to get upset at the thought of Sherlock’s anger being directed at you again and quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulder, tugging you back to him, “I wasn’t going to leave either way but Sherlock let me stay.”

You remained stiff, fighting the urge to snuggle into him again as he tugged at you, “He did?”

“Yes and he also said it was alright for us to spend more time together if that’s what you want.”

He did not expect your reaction to his statement to be so drastically different from the first, startling when you threw yourself on him to pin him beneath you on the couch as you beamed down at him, “He did?!”

John managed at grin as he chuckled and nodded, earning himself a squeal as you rolled off the couch to enthusiastically pace, “That is fantastic. He’ll probably still be bothersome on dates but there’s so much opportunity for teasing it doesn’t matter and if he gets really bad I can always hide his nicotine patches… or steal his violin bow… or take one of the strings… or-“

You abruptly cut yourself off, coming to a complete halt that was punctuated by a succession of three sneezes and a groan, “Mycroft…”

John had never seen such an expression of complete and utter dejection as you pressed your fingers firmly against your temples and sank into your wingback with a heavy sigh, “There’s no way he’ll approve. He’s so bloody picky and sheltering…”

“Actually…”

Your eyes snapped up to him and John offered you a small grin, “Mycroft has said that as long as you wish it, he will allow me to ‘court’ you.”

You blinked a few times as you let that sink in and then slipped over to the couch next to him as you whispered, “He did?”

“He did.”

Your brain shut off and John blinked at you in confusion when you slumped back into the couch and closed your eyes, having expected some sort of enthusiasm after how you’d reacted to Sherlock’s approval, before hesitantly venturing, “That’s a good thing... isn’t it?”

“The best,” you hummed softly, not moving, “I think I figured out what was bothering me…”

“And now you’re exhausted?”

You nodded, moving to blindly snuggle into him when you felt him sit back next to you, “Everything hurts again.”

Leaning into his touch when you felt him bring a hand up to check your forehead, you sighed as he huffed in a scolding tone, “You need to take it easy (F/n). You feel a little warm… not nearly as bad as this morning though.”

You whined tiredly when he moved to get up, letting yourself fall on to the cushions where he’d been limply as you pouted, “Johhnnn…”

He leaned and pressed a kiss to your forehead with a soft chuckle, “I’ll be right back.”

You rolled to face the back of the couch, sulking in true Holmes fashion as you let out a wheezy cough. You wanted to be excited but doing so was exhausting and you just didn’t have the energy now that your brain wasn’t pushing you to figure things out. The world started to quiet around you as you slipped off into a doze and John felt bad for waking you when he returned, gently brushing the hair away from your face, “Wake up (F/n)… Once you take these, you can sleep all you want.”

Lurching up to a sitting position with a yawn faltered by coughs, you took the meds he was holding out to you and downed them with water before letting John help you up as he gently thrummed, “You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

He kept an arm snuggly tucked around your waist to keep you from sleepily straying off your path to the bedroom, chuckling when you forcefully flopped down on your tousled covers. He made sure at least some of them were actually over you as you were already pretty much asleep and weren’t going to do so yourself and nearly jumped out of his skin when your hand shot out to grab the edge of his jumper, “John… don’t leave. Please?”

There was a desperate softness to your voice that he couldn’t ignore so he sat on the edge of your bed to rub your back affectionately, “I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep.”

Making a soft noise of disapproval, you twisted to pull him down next to you, grumbling as you threw the covers over him sloppily before he could protest, “Stay. The couch is uncomfortable.”

He glanced at the clock- it _was_ getting late- and then shifted to press a kiss to your shoulder, “Are you sure you want me to stay?”

You rolled to face him, looking at him with half-lidded eyes as you let out a disheartened murmur, “You don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” he rushed, brushing his fingers across your skin as he went to cup your cheek in an attempt to reassure you.

“Then stay,” you hummed, closing your eyes as you tilted your cheek up into his hand. He smiled gently, running his thumb across your cheekbone as he whispered, “Alright.”

You scooched closer to him with a tiny yawn and he wrapped his arm tightly around you as he kissed your forehead. You had a bit of a fever and he wondered if you would remember any of this when you woke but decided to stay all the same, it would be easier to make sure you didn’t get worse if he stayed instead of periodically getting up to check on you. You snuggled into his chest contently, having fallen fully asleep as soon as he said he would stay, and he listened to the labored but even sound of your breathing until he drifted off himself.


	7. Chapter 7

The moonlight through your window gave everything a soft glow, a fact you appreciated when you blinked awake in the wee hours of the morning with a violent shiver. Your head throbbed in protest when you shifted to see where all the covers had gone, finding them wound tightly around John as he thrashed slightly, a layer of sweat clinging to his troubled face. Blinking sleepily, your lips curved downward in a fretful frown and you reached out to detangle him, feeling him shake beneath your fingertips. 

The intent was to wake him when you got him free but when you went to do so he suddenly rolled and curled himself into a ball with one of his hands fisted into your shirt. You sighed, shifting closer to him so you could wrap an arm around his shoulder, and he whimpered at your touch, throwing an arm tightly around your waist as he burrowed his face into your stomach. You stroked his hair soothingly as he wrapped himself around you like a koala on a tree, his grip on your waist so tight you were sure it would leave bruises. It didn’t matter to you though and you wove your fingers into the mess of sandy blond hair brushing against the arm you had snuggly tucked around him, hoping to soothe him enough that he could at least sleep restfully.

Feeling your own exhaustion taking control again now that you were warm- John was certainly more effective than a blanket in that respect, you settled back into your pillow with a weak cough, letting your eyes slide closed as you hummed softly. It was an old tune and one all the Holmes children knew well, no one of you could quite decide where it came from but it was there all the same and all of you used it. Mycroft used to hum it to you when you went to him after nightmares, rocking you softly until you fell asleep again. Sherlock often played it on his violin when he knew you’d had a rough day, one of the few forms of comforting he was willing to give. You, in turn, did the same for each of them, humming it to Mycroft when he was ill enough to need you with him, which was more often than you'd expect, and doing the same for Sherlock when he relapsed in his drug habit and was going through withdrawals. For all of you, it was synonymous with comfort and let you know that despite how you acted towards each other you were never alone.

That was all you could offer John now. You couldn’t take away the memories, erase the past, or keep him from feeling guilty and lost but you could remind him that no matter what he wasn’t alone- whether it was you or Sherlock or even Lestrade… no matter where he went he always had someone who cared. Feeling him calm slightly and his breathing go from ragged to even, you let yourself slip back into your own dreams.

You woke before he did, feeling better but still stuffed up, and let out a small pained cough that made him stir. Gently weaving your fingers into his hair, you hoarsely hummed, “Good morning, love.”

He groaned and nuzzled further in your stomach, not willing to wake up fully, but the action caused you to give a small gasp as he hit a particularly sore muscle and you started coughing. He was quick to loosen his grip on you, shooting straight up when he realized the position he was in before pulling you up to pat your back until you stopped coughing. Taking a deep rasping breath as you recovered, you groaned when John started to fret over you a little frantically, pressing his hand to your forehead as he tumbled, “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, (F/n). I didn’t mean to get so touchy. I was supposed to be taking care of you not-“

He found himself unable to continue because you had thrown your arms around his neck insistently, “Hush, John, It’s alright. I know you don’t sleep well very often… I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I didn’t want to snuggle.”

John trailed his fingers up your back unsurely, “Are you sure? I really like you (F/n). I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or push this.”

Your fingers carded through his hair as you laughed softly, “I’m a Holmes, dear. We don’t do anything without considering all the options and we know exactly what we want… I decided I wanted you a long time ago. That’s not going to change so easily.”

Relaxing, he hugged you back carefully, not wanting to hurt you again, and then had a thought, pulling you to him closely as he stood and wrapped your legs around his waist. If you were okay with the intimacy, he certainly wasn’t going to try and convince you otherwise… and why not take advantage of it? You willingly obliged, letting him carry you, but leaned back slightly to blink at him in confusion, “Not that this isn’t a nice change of pace and attitude but may I ask what exactly you’re planning?”

Setting you down on the couch, he simply stated, “Breakfast,” and then pressed a quick kiss to your lips. You blushed bright red, your fingers coming up to graze your lips as you grinned, before you pursed your lips and huffed, calling out, “I’m still sick you know. You’re going to catch it.”

He appeared in the doorway, looking a little distracted, “I’ve had a flu jab and my immune system is superb… Mycroft wasn’t kidding when he said your kitchen was empty. I think even Sherlock and I have more…”

You flopped to the side with a groan, “I was working and the flu jab doesn’t make you immune. You can still catch it.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh at the state of your kitchen, he came to plop down next to you, cupping your face in his hands when you righted yourself, “And if I simply don’t care?”

“You’re a doctor. Of course you-“

He quickly pressed his lips to yours so you couldn’t get any further with that thought and you couldn’t help but melt into him, letting your lips dance across his. Far too quickly for your liking, he pulled away to give you a serious look, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long… if I get sick, it will have been a small price to pay.”

You searched his eyes for a moment and then grinned, having deduced an answer, “Liar. You did it because I’m not contagious anymore…” and pecked his lips with a soft giggle, “Adorably romantic though.”

Utterly content and happy that you didn’t have a fever anymore and were well on your way to getting better with the meds he’d given you, he chuckled, tugging you to his side, “I should have known I couldn’t fool a Holmes.”


End file.
